Yu-Gi-Oh: Vexal
by ProbableImpossibilities
Summary: The Numeron Code gave everyone what they wanted, but all Vector asked for was a clean slate. So he's reborn into the human world, where he lives an alien-free life, attends college, and makes strange friends, ignorant of his own past. However, everything he thought he knew goes out the window when the other Barians realize they need his help… - Post-canon, AU-ish, OCs, punny title.
1. Rebirth

"Shark...?"

Ryoga opened his eyes, blinking. He was lying on a hard surface, probably concrete, staring up at blue sky and a familiar face. "...Yuma."

The boy grinned and leaned over him until their noses were almost touching. "You finally woke up! I was kinda worried, but I knew you'd get up eventually!"

Ryoga scowled. "Get out of my personal space."

Yuma complied, but his smile never dimmed. "We saved Barian world... and Astral world, too. Thanks to the Numeron Code, all the worlds can go on living in peace." He seemed to remember something. "Oh, but we're on Earth now. Everybody else went back to Barian, but I wasn't sure if maybe you and Rio wanted to stay here for a little bit..." It was obvious that he wanted that to be the case.

Ryoga rolled his eyes and sat up, feeling surprisingly none the worse for wear, considering he'd just died and been brought back to life. There was a part of him that really wanted to stay, but... "Sorry, Yuma, I can't."

Yuma's shoulders sagged. "Why not?"

Ryoga slowly got to his feet, dusting himself off. He could see Rio talking to Kotori a couple of feet to his left; judging by the teary hug the girls were sharing, their conversation was headed in a similar direction to his own. "First and foremost, I'm a Barian. While it might be fun to stay here for a bit, I have responsibilities... people to take care of." At the thought of the other Emperors being alive, he couldn't help but smile softly. Nothing had ever hurt him worse than losing them. "You're sure everyone's back?"

Yuma toed the concrete with a foot, staring at the ground. "Well… not everyone…"

* * *

_**What do you desire most?**_

Everything around him was blackness. He was floating in an empty void, nothing now but a lost soul, caught somewhere between threads in the fabric of space and time. He knew who he was, what he'd done, but it was like remembering a dream of a dream. No, scratch that, a nightmare.

Vector didn't feel regret. Not precisely. He wasn't so vain as to pity himself, either. Sure, he'd done a lot of horrible things, and about half of them could reasonably be attributed to Don Thousand, but when he considered all the choices he'd made, the course his life had run, there wasn't any one thing that he could go back and change that would make it all better. The Barian god had come after him because of his Number, and he'd had that Number since his infancy. The billions upon billions of possibilities, of choices that he could've/would've/should've made, all ended here regardless.

But that was all irrelevant now, wasn't it? He was barely even an existence anymore, just a faded, severed Ego wandering the universe's proverbial Fields of Asphodel. Nothing but a few scraps of memory in a sea of nothing.

So when he heard the Voice, he wasn't quite sure how to react at first.

_**What do you desire most?**_

Desire? He remembered desiring a lot of things, but none of them moved him anymore. He must have finally realized that all along, he'd never been anything but pathetically miserable, no matter how much power he got or how many people he hurt. That was, after all, why he'd gotten tired of trying and ended it - twice.

But, truthfully, he wasn't entirely satisfied with this listless nothingness, either. He didn't care if the Voice made him into a house-plant, he wanted to exist again.

He wasn't fond of what he'd become, though. If he was going to live again, he'd prefer to not be miserable. He knew changing the past wouldn't accomplish much, but… what if he could bypass all that? Wipe everything clean, start over?

As soon as the thought came to him, he knew that, yes, that was what he wanted. A clean slate, another go.

_**Very well. Your wish shall be granted…**_

* * *

The blue Civic sped down the freeway, swerving dangerously close to the center line. The woman in the front passenger seat gripped the armrest nervously, running a thin, pale hand through her wispy blue hair. "Cyrus, pull over!" She gasped as the car suddenly careened towards the shoulder before floating back to the center of the lane. "You're drunk, just let me drive!"

The man behind the steering wheel shot his wife a furious glare, his face nearly as red as his hair. "I told you, I am not drunk!" he shouted, adjusting his grip on the wheel. "We're going to be late, and you drive like an old woman!"

"We're not going to be late, just please, pull over!" the woman pleaded, glancing at her young son in the backseat through the rearview mirror. The boy looked positively frightened, tugging nervously at his seatbelt. The woman gulped and decided to try a different tactic. "Cyrus, if you do not pull over right now, I will call the police." She pulled her cellphone out of her pocket, one trembling thumb poised over the keypad. "They'll be waiting at the airport with a breathalyzer, and then we will definitely be late."

The man's right eye twitched slightly. "You b***!" he roared, spittle flying out of his mouth. His hands slipped off the wheel, and suddenly the car was in the opposite lane.

The boy in the backseat screamed, and the woman lunged desperately towards the steering wheel, hoping to grab it and force the car onto the shoulder. Her fingers brushed the black textured surface just as the sound of a long horn blast filled her ears. She grabbed the wheel, then something crashed into the car and there was glass shattering and steel shrieking and folding in on itself before everything went black.

* * *

The private hospital waiting room was small and softly-lit, full of warm browns and muted reds. The change of scenery from the sterile white of all the other rooms was a small, if superficial, comfort to the frail woman huddled nervously at the end of one of the couches, her shaking fingers fiddling restlessly with the top button of her plain beige blouse. Her mouse-brown hair, usually done up in a tight bun, was a complete mess, strands sticking up like a bolt of electricity had run through them, and she clearly hadn't taken the time to make sure her outfit matched. She waited, quivering, staring at the painting of a field of sunflowers in front of her, making no sound except for the occasional sniffle. Tears constantly welled in her eyes, but she refused to allow them to flow. "They're alright," she whispered to the sunflowers, as if reassuring them instead of herself. "They'll be fine… Lydia will apologize for not picking me up at the airport, and we'll all go to the park together and feed the ducks…"

The door to the room swung open, and in stepped the doctor and chaplain who'd come to speak with her when she'd first arrived. The chaplain was a big man with a soft face, and there was tender sympathy in his features as he sat next to the woman and took her hand. "Ms. Shadows, I'm sorry, but your sister's heart just stopped."

The woman sniffled once again, shaking her head mechanically. "That's not true… that can't be true, they're all going to be fine!"

The chaplain scooted a little closer to her and gently patted her hand. "Ms. Shadows, I understand; you don't want to believe that they're dead. But your brother-in-law was declared dead on arrival, and your nephew died over four hours ago. I know this hurts, but you need to accept the truth; otherwise, you won't be able to grieve properly."

The woman made a soft noise, almost between a moan and a cry, and tears started rolling down her cheeks. "C- Can I at least… see them?" she whimpered, grasping the chaplain's hand with all her might.

The doctor nodded solemnly from where he stood near the door, his bright white coat seeming horribly out-of-place in the soft interior of the room. "You can, but… the sight may be somewhat disturbing."

The woman nodded slowly to show that she understood, and rose to her feet, still clenching the chaplain's hand. The two of them followed the doctor out of the room and down the long white hospital halls, past rooms and windows and beeping machines until the doctor opened a door and beckoned them inside.

"Mr. Harrison had to be taken to a different room," the doctor informed them, clearing a path through some people dressed in pale blue scrubs. "You can see him, too, if you like, but I wouldn't recommend it."

There were two beds in the room; the first held the thin body of a young woman. Her light blue hair was almost entirely matted with dried blood, and though most of her lower body was covered by a bedsheet, the thin fingers of her right hand dangled over the edge of the bed, mangled and twisted.

Her sister let out a cry of anguish, her knees suddenly threatening to buckle. She supported herself on the chaplain's shoulder and cried, horrible, wracking sobs shaking her entire body. After a time, though, she managed to calm herself down enough to take the few shaky steps to the other side of the room.

The boy in the second bed had only a few cuts on his face, and looked like he was simply asleep. The doctor had said that he'd died because of a sudden brain aneurysm, but the woman, gazing upon his face through eyes blurred slightly by tears, simply couldn't believe that the little boy in front of her was truly dead. She knelt down at his bedside and gently ran her fingers through his bright orange hair, caked with blood and dirt, and cupped her hand against his cheek. His skin still felt warm and soft, and she melted, weeping softly. "Please… just wake up…" she whispered, then drew her hand away and rose to her feet. After a minute or two of standing silently at his bedside, she started to turn back to the chaplain.

Suddenly, the boy's eyes snapped open, and he gasped, drawing in a huge breath of air before coughing raggedly. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he breathed heavily, gasping desperately, fingers curled around the sheets.

The doctor's mouth hung open for a second or two before he rushed over to the boy's bedside, fumbling to reattach the EKG. "He's alive!" he shouted, turning to the stunned nurses around him. "Hurry, get that IV back in his wrist!"

The woman watched the scene with wide eyes, scarcely believing it could be true. "What's going on?" she asked the chaplain, who only shook his head, stunned. "It must be a miracle," he murmured, squeezing the woman's hand and smiling softly.

The woman smiled with him, feeling that her heart would burst.

After a minute or two, the EKG started beeping, a little fast, but steady. After nearly ten minutes, the doctor let out a sigh of relief and started scribbling something on a notepad, turning to the woman. "I… have to admit, I have no idea what just happened, but his condition appears to be stable."

The boy, who'd been focusing mostly on breathing until that point, started to turn his head, glancing around the room with a confused look on his face. "ここはどこ?" he asked, turning to the doctor, who was closest to him. "何が起こっているの？私は何も覚えていません。私は誰？"

The woman took a hesitant step towards the doctor, deeply confused. "What is he saying?"

The doctor scratched his chin, looking perplexed. "I think it might be… Japanese? I recognized about two words." He turned to the woman, a reassuring expression on his face. "He most likely suffered brain trauma; I've heard of patients waking up from concussions speaking totally new languages. But the fact that he can speak at all is a very, very good sign." He turned back to the boy, leaning over the bed slightly. "Um, watashi wa… err… my name is Doctor Hayes. Do you understand me?"

The boy's eyebrows furrowed for a moment, then he nodded. "You speak English," he observed quietly, eyes still darting around the room. "Where am I?"

The doctor smiled. "Good, just keep talking and try to relax, alright? You're at the Temple University Hospital in Philadelphia. You were in a car accident."

The boy seemed to be wracking his brain, biting his lip. "I don't remember anything…" He looked up at the doctor, a touch of worry in his eyes. "Who am I?"

The woman drew in a sharp gasp, but the doctor's expression didn't change. "Your name is Ray, and you're nine years old," he said reassuringly, gesturing for the woman to stand next to him. "You might have amnesia, but there's no need to worry. As far as we can tell, you're perfectly fine. Do you remember your aunt?"

The woman smiled nervously, her fingers still shaking. "It's me, Aunt Lizzie."

Ray's violet eyes studied her face, but he shook his head. "I don't… remember anything," he repeated, a faraway look in his eyes. He turned his head to look at the bed next to him. "Who's that?"

Lizzie's eyes filled with tears, and she choked back a sob. The doctor's face took on a serious expression. "That's your mother. She died in the car crash."

Ray's face was unnervingly blank. "Oh." He turned back to the doctor. "Did my father die, too?"

The doctor nodded, struggling to keep his expression neutral. For a moment, there had been something in those eyes that frightened him for reasons that he couldn't explain. But the moment had passed, and the boy simply looked sad. "Yes, he did."

Lizzie reached out her hand and grasped Ray's, wiping her tears with the back of her sleeve. "Don't worry… I'm going to take care of you, Ray." She smiled, though it looked like it was extremely difficult for her to do so. "I promise."

Ray seemed to consider the offer, glancing back and forth between the doctor and his aunt. Finally, after a minute or so, he turned to Lizzie with a warm smile on his face. "Okay."

Lizzie sniffled and leaned over the bed, pulling Ray into a gentle hug. "I'll take care of you no matter what," she whimpered, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I won't let anything happen bad happen to you ever again."

Ray wasn't quite sure why, but he suddenly felt like a weight had been lifted from him, and he felt tears forming in his own eyes. "Thank you," he whispered, snuggling his face into her shoulder.

* * *

**Author's Note: Aaaaand here is the fic that I've always kind of wanted to write but never got around to. Honestly, this is probably going to be the most serious part of the entire story, which I'm sure will dissolve into ridiculous humor starting next chapter.**

**Basically, Vector's getting reborn into the human world in the same way that Nasch and Merag were… although I feel a little unoriginal that I couldn't think of anything other than a car crash. At least the other driver wasn't a jellyfish man. My only other ideas were things like random muggings or armed burglary, but that seemed a little ridiculous and/or too typical-tragic-backstory-y, so I told myself to deal with it. I really don't want Ray to turn into Batman.**

**Also, this takes place in the US. Because I feel most comfortable writing about the US. The reason he speaks Japanese when he wakes up is because the Numbers War or whatever took place mostly in Japan, so that would be his current default. However, since all of the Barians speak Japanese fluently even though only three of them should be able to, I'm pretty sure they have some kind of biological Universal Translator that lets them speak any human language they want. That's how Ray was able to switch to English so easily. Also, pardon my Japanese; it's straight from Google translate, so it's undoubtedly horrible.**


	2. Welcome to Ivy U

_- - Nine years later - -_

Ray sighed heavily, gasping the thin metal rim of the orange move-in cart with his right hand. "Come on, Lizzie, let go!"

"Never!" his aunt bawled, both arms wrapped around his torso like a vise. "I'll miss you too much!"

Ray glanced around the dorm's lobby; nearly everyone there was staring at him. "You're making a scene," he hissed, trying (and failing) to free himself from Lizzie's death-grip. "Ten minutes is way more than long enough for a goodbye hug!"

"It's not a goodbye hug, it's a don't-go hug!" Lizzie cried, sniffling. "It's not too late to come home, Ray! Three hours isn't too bad for a commute!"

"I already paid for the room and board!" Ray argued, trying to think of a painless way to escape the almost suffocating embrace. Finding none, he gritted his teeth and stomped the heel of his boot down onto the toe of Lizzie's sneaker.

The woman yelped, loosening her arms just enough for Ray to wriggle free and jump to the other side of the cart. With the huge container holding all of his stuff between him and his aunt, he relaxed enough to smile sheepishly at her. "Sorry, but there was no other way."

Lizzie sniffled, smiling and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I know. I just... have trouble with goodbyes."

Ray rolled his eyes. That was a grave understatement, and they both knew it. "At least you're doing better now than you were at my graduation ceremony."

Lizzie sighed and shook her head. "No, if there had been a punch bowl for me to shove that girl at the registration desk's head into, I would have." She subconsciously twirled a lock of her greying brown hair around her finger. "She was so condescending! I..." She sniffled again. "I don't want to leave you with these people! Are you sure you're going to be alright here?!"

Ray flashed her a grin. "Come on, you know I can handle it! So don't worry, okay?" He started to turn towards the elevators. "You should get back to the car soon, or you'll get a ticket."

"Ray, wait!" Lizzie ran up to him, looking like she was about to hug him again, but instead she held herself back and simply patted his shoulder. "Have fun," she said, tears welling in her eyes. "I love you..."

Ray smiled at her. "Bye, Lizzie." He then turned around and started to drag the cart towards the nearest elevator.

"Study hard!" Lizzie called after him, sounding like she was getting worked up again. "And remember to call on Sundays! And don't party too much! A-And don't go off campus alone at night!"

Ray sighed, knowing that he'd only be indulging her if he turned around. "_Goodbye..._"

"Oh, and don't wash your reds with your whites!"

Ray gritted his teeth and started tapping his foot, glaring at the elevator doors and pressing the 'up' button over and over impatiently. When the doors slid open with a soft 'ding,' he darted inside and pressed the button for the tenth floor. As soon as the doors closed, he leaned back against the wall of the car, closed his eyes, and sighed. _I'm finally on my own, huh? _

He gazed idly at the orange cart, filled to the brim with all his earthly possessions. There wasn't a whole lot of stuff, so moving in probably wouldn't take him very long. He'd have plenty of time to get a feel for the new place and meet some of his floor-mates before the Duel Club meeting that evening.

To say that Duel Monsters was big at Ivy University was an understatement. The Philadelphia school's Duel Club was one of the best in the state, and their matches brought in almost as much money as the football games. Even though there was no Dueling major and most Ivy duelists didn't join the pro circuit after graduating, the school gave out substantial scholarships to freshmen lucky enough to make the team; Ray just so happened to be one of them. This dorm building, fondly referred to by students as 'The Dump,' was actually one of the nicest residence halls on campus, and the tenth floor was reserved exclusively for Duel Club members. The rooms were suite style, divided into two smaller rooms with two occupants each, with a common area housing a bathroom and a mini fridge/microwave...

Ray suddenly shook his head violently, horrified that his thoughts were starting to sound like the girl at the registration desk. He was also a little frustrated; this elevator was unbelievably slow. As the floors ticked by, he took a moment to straighten out his leather jacket where it had crinkled up under the pressure of Lizzie's hug, using the reflective silver of the walls as a mirror of sorts. He ran a hand through his orange hair, realizing with a faint sense of amusement that it was brighter than the move-in cart.

Finally, the car stopped, and the doors opened with a 'ding.' He dragged the cart into the hallway, oddly impressed by the sheer blandness of the light beige walls and grey carpet. Someone (most likely an RA) had attempted to put up some kind of Duel Monsters themed decorations, but most were already peeling off the wall. Glancing around briefly to make sure he was alone, Ray paused to draw a Sharpie moustache on a poster of Gagaga Girl before continuing down the hall towards his room.

"Let's see... 1002, 1003..." he muttered to himself as he walked down the rows of doors. "Ah, here it is ~ !" he exclaimed, stopping in front of the door labeled '1004'. In keeping with the theme, the RA had posted pictures of Duel Monsters labeled with the names of the room's occupants on the door itself. There was a Dark Magician named Horace, a Flame Swordsman named Gil (it looked like it had originally said 'Gilbert,' but someone had scribbled out the end of the name with a Sharpie), a Celtic Guardian named Terry, and... a Swordsman of Landstar named Ray. He scowled, pulling his keycard out of his pocket and making a mental note to change the picture as soon as possible.

He swiped his card through the card reader next to the door handle, and there was a slight whirring sound as the door unlocked. Grasping the handle in his right hand and the rim of the cart in his left, he pushed open the door and stepped into the room.

The small common area was empty, so he had just enough room to squeeze the cart inside. The doors to both sides were open; he'd been assigned to the one on the left. Reaching into the cart, he grabbed a box of clothes and made his way into the smaller room.

His roommate had apparently already unpacked and was sitting on the bed to his right, reading a boring-looking book with test tubes and DNA on the cover. The first thing Ray noticed about him was that he was really tall, a fact that was obvious even though he was sitting down. He had nut-brown skin and long blond hair that kind of hung down to his shoulders and over his eyes like a limp rag, completely lacking volume... except for the strange cowlick sticking up at the top of his head, shaped vaguely like a boomerang. He wore a deep burgundy tank top tucked neatly into a belt patterned with a black and neon-green checkerboard, and he had beige strips of cloth wrapped around his wrists, the kind of thing one occasionally sees boxers wearing. When Ray entered the room and greeted him with a " 'sup?," he only briefly looked up from his book, nodding slightly with a quiet "hm" before continuing to read.

Ray tossed the box onto his own bed, determined not to let this guy ignore him. "So, you're Horace, right?" He held out his hand. "I'm Ray, nice to meet'cha."

Horace didn't even look up this time, green eyes completely focused on the text in front of him. "Same," he said in a relatively deep but tired-sounding voice. "What's your major?"

Ray folded his arms, feeling a bit annoyed. "Psychology. What's yours?"

"Biochemistry," Horace responded dully, flipping the page. "I may bring strong-smelling chemicals into the room. Is that alright?"

"Well, if they explode, you should probably keep them away from me," Ray joked, smirking.

Horace gave him an unimpressed look. "Noted." He then turned back to his book, lapsing into silence.

Ray frowned. _Geez, this guy is such a bore..._ He suddenly jumped up onto Horace's bed and pretended to read the textbook over his shoulder. "You mind if I call you H? 'Horace' is kind of a mouthful."

Horace was frozen in shock by Ray's sudden invasion of his personal space; he looked like something had short-circuited in his brain and now he didn't know how to respond. "I mind," he muttered, green eyes staring blankly at Ray as if he had "does not compute" written all over him.

Ray smirked. "Okay, H." He then hopped off the bed and walked out the door into the common area, leaving Horace to regain his composure. _Might as well meet my suite-mates,_ he thought to himself, turning and strolling into the room on the right.

The two occupants both looked up at him simultaneously; they were already unpacked, as well. The guy standing on the left side of the room raised an eyebrow. "Cutting it a little close, aren't you? We were starting to wonder if you'd even show up before tonight's meeting." He was taller than Ray, but not nearly as tall as Horace, and he had a mop of light-purple hair that projected out in all directions and was tied into a thin ponytail at the base of his neck. He was skinny and pale, almost pasty, and he sported a pair of Woody Allen glasses that seemed to constantly slip down the bridge of his nose. A garish orange and black striped bandana was tied around his neck, and he wore a charcoal grey tee-shirt with a strange gold question mark printed on it, ratty-looking jeans, and a pair of worn Converses. He held up a hand in a kind of half-wave. "My name's Gil; Gil Ryle. I'm a Philosophy major."

Ray returned the gesture. "I'm Ray." He smirked. "Gil, huh? Is that short for 'Gilbert?'"

"NO!" Gil shouted vehemently, hands on his hips. "My name is Gil! Just Gil!" He scowled. "Gilbert is a stupid name; a true Napoleon man wouldn't be caught dead with a name like Gilbert!"

Ray raised an eyebrow. He vaguely remembered hearing the phrase 'Napoleon man' somewhere before... Suddenly, it came to him, and he smirked. "That's from 'Crime and Punishment,' right?"

Gil beamed. "You're familiar with Dostoyevsky?!"

Ray shrugged. "Nah, just read it for a class." He folded his arms. "But it's really interesting that you're actually following Raskolnikov's philosophy."

Gil nodded proudly. "His ideas about greatness and ambition are absolutely brilliant! I intend to live my life as a Napoleon man would!"

Ray almost laughed. "Great, except Raskolnikov did kind of kill an old lady with an axe."

Gil shrugged dismissively. "Details..."

Ray grinned. _I like this guy. _

There was a derisive snort from the other side of the room. "That's just great. At least if I get murdered in my sleep, you'll know who did it." The person the voice belonged to hopped off his bed and walked up to Ray, extending his hand with a broad smile. "Nice to meet ya, Ray. I'm Terry."

Ray shook his hand, sizing him up. Terry was extremely short; he looked like he couldn't be taller than five feet. Despite that, he was relatively muscular, and Ray figured the almost-midget could probably beat him up if he wanted to. He had messy brown hair that hung down around his ears from underneath a baseball cap, and he wore some kind of sports jersey and a pair of black shorts. There was a tan band-aid stuck on his right cheek, and he had unusually large eyebrows. They looked like fat brown caterpillars.

"So, where ya from?" Terry asked with a grin. He seemed genuinely curious to know the answer, even though the question was classic small-talk.

Ray shrugged. "Eh, just a dinky little suburb about three hours north of here. You?"

Terry gestured to himself with a thumb. "I'm south Philly born and raised. Turns out the room and board here is cheaper than the subway tokens it'd take to commute."

Gil arched an eyebrow. "There's no way that's true."

Terry laughed and slapped him on the back, causing him to flinch. "I was just kiddin', geez. Truth is, I can't stand the 'rents anymore, so I figured I'd try living in a dorm for a while." He turned back to Ray. "I know the city, though, so if ya ever want directions to anywhere, don't be afraid to ask."

Ray nodded his thanks, taking another quick look around the room before heading back towards the common area. "Welp, I'd better start unpacking," he said, grabbing another cardboard box. "As Gil so nicely pointed out, I'm just a liiiittle bit behind…"

He carried the box into his room, setting it down on the bed and flipping the top open. As he started pulling out bundles of sheets, he became aware of Horace's eyes on him, boring into his back with all the single-minded concentration of a researcher studying a perplexing enigma. Ray couldn't help but smile to himself; his roommate was proving to be one of those people who were insanely fun to mess with.

Once he'd gotten everything unpacked, he stood for a bit and admired his handiwork before turning towards the door. Horace, who hadn't stopped staring at him, raised an eyebrow. "Where are you going?"

Ray shrugged. "Dunno. I'm probably gonna look for open doors and meet some people." He smirked mischievously. "Preferably female people. You wanna be my wingman?"

Horace blinked, obviously surprised by the question. "No." He slowly slid off the bed and placed the textbook on his desk, and Ray became sharply aware of just how tall he really was. "But I might go with you."

"Alright." Ray grasped the door handle and swung it open, stepping out into the hall without bothering to hold it for Horace. The tall blond didn't seem to mind, though, and he quickly matched Ray's pace as he strolled down the hall. Ray's eyes traveled back and forth, scanning the open doors they passed for female Duel Monsters, and after a minute or two, he found one. The door wasn't open the whole way; it looked like the doorstop had slipped slightly, but he could see that the room was actually a rare two-person suite. Taking a step forward, he examined the door itself, which sported a picture of the Mystical Elf labeled "Kelsey," and a Dark Magician Girl with the name "Emilee." He grinned and knocked lightly on the door with his knuckle. "Hey, my name's Ray, and my roommate H and I are trying to get to know some people on this floor," he announced, leaning forward slightly. "Mind if we come in?"

"Oh! Um, not at all," came a hesitant voice from inside the room, and soon the door was opened completely by a timid-looking girl with short brown hair and glasses. Horace's height must have intimidated her, because she looked up at him with wide eyes before stepping back and allowing them in. "My name's Kelsey… sorry if it's a little bit of a mess, I haven't quite finished unpacking yet…"

Ray whistled softly; usually when girls said their room was a mess, it wasn't really a mess. This room looked like a tornado had blown through it. The entire left-hand side was littered with machine parts of all shapes and sizes, from nuts and bolts to what looked like a piece of an engine, and the right-hand side was filled with strange knick-knacks and haphazard piles of textbooks that reached up to his waist. Glancing at the book on top of the pile nearest to him, he noticed a grey symbol that reminded him of the fleur de lis, though sharper and adorned with pink diamond-shapes. It was strangely familiar, though he couldn't remember where he'd seen it before. The title of the book read, "Complete History of the United Kingdoms of the Poseidon Ocean," so maybe he'd seen it in his high school world history class. He glanced at Kelsey, who hastily picked up a couple of the books and shoved them onto a shelf, looking embarrassed. "Are you a History major?" he asked her, gesturing towards the book.

Kelsey nodded, biting her thumbnail. "I'm also majoring in Anthropology."

"The science of humanity," Horace remarked cryptically, green eyes scanning the piles of books. "A respectable course of study, indicative of a keen intellect."

Kelsey blushed. "R-Really? Um, thank you..."

Ray stared at Horace, aghast. _Did he just hit on her? I didn't think he had it in him…_

Someone cleared their throat, and footsteps could be heard on the room's tiled floor. Ray whirled around, hoping to see Kelsey's roommate, but the person that walked through the door looked like a guy. He was a little shorter than Ray himself, and he had extremely short, bright-blue hair that stood out against his tan skin. He wore khaki pants and a baggy yellow sweatshirt, and a pair of huge tinted goggles sat at the top of his forehead. He glanced back and forth between the room's occupants with a hostile scowl, hands on his hips. "Kelsey, who are these people?"

Ray's eyes widened at the sound of the voice. It was definitely feminine. "You're a girl?!"

Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, he felt something collide with his cheek, sending him flying almost clear to the other side of the room. Groaning, he sat up, massaging his face, and saw the blue-haired girl (?) towering over him with a look of pure hatred. "What the hell was that for?!" he spat, pushing himself up to his feet.

The girl glowered at him. "I am not a man!" she growled, arms folded and feet planted shoulder-length apart. "And I know your type, Carrot Top. What do you think you're doing in here, wearing that stupid leather jacket with that smirk on your face?! If I catch you trying to take advantage of Kelsey I'll rip out your intestines and use them to skip double-dutch, you hear me?!"

"Lee, you're overreacting!" Kelsey cried, hastily picking up a couple of books that had been knocked to the ground. "He just came to introduce himself."

Blue-hair eyed Ray distrustfully. "Alright, what's your name, punk?" When Ray simply stared at her, she held out her hand. "Fine, I'll go first. My name's Emilee, but you'd better call me Lee or I'll bash your head in."

Ray was, frankly, rather dumbfounded by this whole situation. Still, he shook Lee's hand, half-expecting her to punch him again. "I'm Ray. I live on the same floor as you."

Lee raised an eyebrow. "Oh? So you're a duelist, then." She walked around him and slumped into the chair at her desk, picking up a screwdriver and tinkering with the engine parts he'd noticed earlier. "I'll look for you at the meeting tonight. Now scram."

Ray was all too happy to do so, practically shoving Horace through the door and saying a hasty goodbye to Kelsey before retreating back down the hall towards his room. As soon as he unlocked the door, he darted inside and flopped onto his bed, rubbing his stinging face and staring at the ceiling. For some reason, he was profoundly confused. This was not at all what he'd been expecting his first day at college to be like… and it was only half-over.

Horace perched on the edge of his own bed, eyeing Ray with just the tiniest hint of sympathy. "I thought that Lee was a male at first, too," he said, flipping open his textbook. "However, I would not have said so out loud."

Ray sighed heavily, closing his eyes. Somehow he got the feeling that this was going to be a long semester.

* * *

**Author's Note: I realize that there are a whole lot of OCs and no other canon characters (excepting Ray) in this chapter, but I needed to set things up. Next chapter will feature familiar faces, I promise.** **I pinky promise. That means you can cut off my pinky if I don't follow through on it.**

**So yeah, this chapter serves mainly to introduce the characters and setting, which is why it might seem like description-overload at times. Please bear with me. Plot is going to happen. Probably starting next chapter.**

**Also! I need other characters to be members of the Duel Club, so if you have an OC you want me to include, send me a PM listing his/her:**

**1. Name and Gender**

**2. Year (Freshman/Sophomore/Junior/Senior/Super-Senior) and Major**

**3. Physical Description**

**4. Personality**

**5. Deck Type**

**I'll tell you right now, these are going to be minor roles; your character might pop up once or twice, so don't expect me to change the story to fit your OC. Also, OCs MUST be normal humans, which means no Barians, Astrals, or Millennium Items or anything like that. You can submit more than one OC if you want, but I might not include all of them.**

**That being said, I'm really looking forward to seeing what kinds of fun characters you guys come up with, so please send me some! :) **


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